Home for Christmas
by nelliesbones
Summary: Temperance Brennan will be home for Christmas... Warm-hearted, not M-rated, set in the near future. Merry Christmas, Boneheads!


_I hope you're all well and enjoying the holiday season. I was feeling a little sentimental and had to check on our favorite family. This is set sometime in the not-so-far-away future.  
_

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

" _Max told me that being alone at Christmas means that nobody loves you."  
_

"Here comes the tree!"

"We've got the tree!"

"It's big, it's the biggest and bestest ever!"

"There's no such thing as 'bestest', Hank."

"There is. This tree."

The front door opened, and amidst snow flurries, three people, a giant mass of fir needles and a very excited dog tumbled into the living-room.

"Gretzky, stop! Christine, grab the dog before... Oh no, the couch, oh no, no, no!"

"Gretzky!"

"Hank, help me!"

"Watch out, the vase!"

"That's not a vase, Dad, it's 19th century Chinese porcelain. It's..."

The sound of splintering china interrupted the girl's lecture, and Seeley Booth widened his eyes.

"Gretzky! Crappity crap. How much? Roughly?"

His gaze focused on his daughter. Christine shrugged her shoulders.

"There's no such thing as 'roughly', Dad. But... I'd say a thousand bucks." She rolled her eyes. " _Roughly_."

Booth grimaced in pain, looking at the shards all over the hardwood floor. Beautiful white shards witch red and gold paint brushes. He tried to recall the shape of the vase, but the memory was blurry.

"It wasn't one of her favorites, was it?"

Christine shook her head.

"Just a gift from her publisher."

Bits and pieces fell into place. A gala. Long speeches. Brennan in a velvety evening gown. His brow furrowed, as Booth remembered.

"Oh yes! An antique vase – what a strange gift. At least the Rolex was practical."

"The Rolex?"

A smile flickered over his face, a smile speaking of days long gone. Days full of friendship and longing. He had wanted her, wanted her so much, but the fear of losing her had always been bigger than anything else.

 _Nothing happens unless first a dream..._

Temperance Brennan had been his dream, the biggest dream he'd ever dared to have.

Booth thought about her expensive watch, about his own insecurities and a broken pipe. He could still remember the nervous tingling sensation in his stomach, as he was lying with her underneath his kitchen sink. She had been so close and too far away at the same time. And then the water had drenched her, had drenched her pale blue blouse...

He cleared his throat.

"Old story, kiddo. Anyways, what do we do with our 200-year-old shards?"

"Well, the _shards_ aren't 200 years old, Dad."

Booth groaned inwardly. He loved that his daughter was so much like her mother, really loved it. Except when it drove him nuts.

Twenty minutes later, the broken fragments were gone and Booth tried very hard not to think about a thousand bucks on a dustpan. The tree had made it into a corner of their living-room, and father and kids rewarded themselves with three mugs of hot chocolate. Gretzky had dozed off, chasing rabbits in his dream. It was warm and cozy; it was Christmassy. Everything was perfect, everything but one thing.

"Dad? When's Mommy coming back?"

Booth squeezed his son.

"She'll be home for Christmas, bub."

-BONES-

"Female, in her mid-twenties. Prior to her death, her left wrist had been broken. Trauma to the skull where the bullet had entered."

2.000 miles away, Christmas was just a mark on the calendar. Snow was nowhere to be seen, just dust, dust as far as the eye could reach. With a sigh, the woman got up, trying to rearrange her ponytail. Sweat was tickling her brow, running down her cheeks.

She was dirty, she was hot, she was tired.

"Everything okay, Dr. Brennan?"

"Of course. I'm fine."

Except that she was not. Wasn't fine. At least not really.

As she bent over the dusty bones anew, Brennan tried to compartmentalize her thoughts. This, this used to be her life. From mass graves to ancient burial sites to fresh homicides – there was hardly anything that involved bones she hadn't seen. She was one of the best in her field, and she liked to keep it that way. The digs, the campsites, the long hours under the burning sun – it had never bothered her before. But... it had been a while. She wasn't alone anymore, was a mother now, a wife.

Longing hit her with unexpected force, as she thought about Booth's face first thing in the morning, about Christine's bed head and Hank's footie PJs.

Casting a glance at her watch, she calculated the time difference, tried to picture her family in Washington DC's holiday season. Snow? Probably. A tree? Definitely.

For the millionth time ever since she had packed her bags two weeks ago, guilt washed over her like a force of nature. For the million-and-first time, the voice of reason barged in, reassuring her that the kids and Booth were fine.

Rationally speaking, Brennan knew that she had to do this to stay on top of the game. She had to keep a reputation, had to follow the bones. Had to do it at least every once in a while. The children were old enough to cope with her temporary absence, and she simply _had_ to do this.

She even _wanted_ to. At least part of her. The rest of her was awash in loneliness.

 _People assume that when you're alone, you must be lonely. Like most assumptions, it's erroneous._

Three nights ago, there had been a campfire, there had been a foreign kind of booze in unfamiliar bottles. Even though Brennan had been part of the group, she'd felt strangely disconnected from her coworkers. Maybe that's how it feels when your heart is someplace else, she mused.

 _As if, Tempe! The heart is a muscle, it can't be anywhere but in your chest._

 _Shut up, logic. You know what I mean._

An involuntary smile lit up her face.

Long, so very long ago, Booth had told her to put her brain in neutral and her heart in overdrive. Ever since she had experienced trouble locating the off-switch for her overdriven heart.

Two forks. A kiss and tears. Worlds apart. A blizzard and an elevator. Eventually, skin to skin. Heart to heart. Grief and love. Two lines on a pregnancy test. A baby girl. Wedding vows, at last. Another pregnancy test. A baby boy. Gretzky, the dog. A single life shared.

 _Messy and confusing and unfocused and irrational and wonderful._

She wouldn't want it any other way.

-BONES-

Day turned into night, turned into day, 2.000 miles away.

Her dust was their snow.

She drank Cusha at night and shared memories by the fire.

He cooked warm milk before bedtime.

She didn't sleep well because her camp-bed was too lonely.

He didn't sleep well because his bed was occupied by two kids and a dog.

She tried not to worry.

He tried not to worry.

She failed, and so did he.

Three more days.

Two more days.

There, almost there.

She was homesick. He was her home. Was she Booth-sick? That sounded way too negative.

He needed to hold her, needed to see her, needed to breathe her.

A plane, finally a plane.

The airport, finally the airport.

A sea of people. Three excited hearts beating way too loudly.

Eventually, her face. Pale blue eyes finding them as if pulled by magnetic forces.

Her bags hit the floor, as her legs started to run. They collided in the middle, a tangle of limbs and kisses. Her arms wept in relief, as they closed around the familiar shapes of her children, and she choked up, as she met his eyes, losing herself in the intimacy of his gaze.

"Bones," he murmured, pulling her close, inhaling her scent. "My Bones..."

Tears started to flow, as emotions overwhelmed her, but they were good tears, happy tears.

"Booth," she breathed his name in reply, feeling his cheek against hers once again, feeling him.

"I've missed you."

She clutched him even harder.

"You have no idea."

Four hearts beating in unison.

Outside in the car, a dog started to howl.

Home, she was home.

-BONES-

"The kids asleep?"

"Yes, finally."

Booth watched his wife lovingly, as she came into the living-room. She had changed into flannel PJs and bunny slippers, her hair in braids, and even though she was in her mid-forties, she looked so young and innocent to him. He knew that she was a very accomplished and badass woman, but tonight, she was simply cute, so cute. His heart clenched unexpectedly, and he cleared his throat.

"Come here."

He patted the cushion next to him, and she approached him with a smile, stopping right in front of him. Lifting his arm, he took her hand, placing a kiss in her palm before studying it carefully. It was her hand, the one he knew inside out, but he noticed some changes, as his fingertips caressed calluses and dirty nails. He gave her a lopsided grin and tugged until Brennan found herself square on his lap.

She laughed; the throaty laugh that he loved so much.

He had to wrap his arms around her, just had to.

"I love you."

The words were out before he could control it, but why should he? Her reply came without hesitation.

"And I love you."

"So... how was it?"

She shifted on his lap, tucking her head under his stubbly chin, playing with the hem of his shirt.

"Hot. Dusty. Exhausting. Lonely..."

In the glow of fairy lights, she began to talk; began to talk about long-forgotten bones and shallow graves, about tents and nights so silent. The tale of three weeks unfolded in front of him, as her voice wove words into facts and memories.

"And I'm proud, you know?" she finished. "Equally proud and glad that it's over. Does that make sense?"

She looked at him, the one who had always explained the world to her.

He placed a kiss on top of her silky hair.

"It does. But, hey, Babe, you did it."

She nodded, retaking her favorite place on his chest, and her hair tickled his nose.

"Yes. But you did it as well, Booth. The job, the kids, the dog. I'm proud."

He smiled, pleased to hear the compliment.

"I'm Superhero Dad."

Lifting her hand, she cupped his face.

"To me, you are."

Lost for words, he pulled her close anew, squeezing maybe a tad too much, but she didn't complain.

"Bones, don't get me wrong. I want you to do your job and I'm so proud, but life without you... it pretty much sucks. You left a big fat hole right here." He pointed at his stomach. "I couldn't even eat pie."

She gave him a sweet smile.

"You wanna get a reward for Superhero Husband as well?"

He chuckled into her neck, pecking the soft skin underneath her ear, inhaling deeply.

"God, I've missed you."

Her hand slipped under his shirt, caressing warm skin. She sighed contently.

For a while, nothing was spoken, as they sat in comfort, silently absorbing each other and the moment. She noticed his strength, he recognized her softness. In the corner, their Christmas tree was sparkling like a million hopes and dreams.

"The tree is beautiful, Booth," she finally said, and he felt pride filling his heart.

"It's the most beautiful tree ever, right?"

She shook her head, but the gesture was so weak that he almost missed it.

"No, that's the one I got in jail. But this one's a close second."

His heart rushed to her, again and again.

"Oh, Bones..."

Lost for words, he cupped her chin, slowly closing the distance to her. She met him halfway, like she always had and always would. Her lips were soft, her mouth even softer.

Heaven.

Heaven in a heartbeat.

She came alive in his arms, pressing into him, and he held her close to his body, as if afraid that she could leave again.

"Temperance Brennan," he finally murmured, "are you seducing me in bunny slippers?"

Her laughter filled the air once more, as she kicked off her shoes.

"You gave them to me."

"For comfort."

"Booth, don't doubt for a second that _this_ is comfort. Making love to you," she inhaled deeply, "you know that it's highly stimulating and beyond exciting – _still –_ but it's home and everything warm as well. This, you... it's the greatest comfort I've ever known."

He looked at her for the fraction of a moment, just a blink before crashing into her.

"You can't just say something so perfect," he complained between kisses, but she'd lost every interest in conversation.

Under the lights of the tree, clothes were shed, hearts were uncovered.

He was hers, she was his; had always been.

Some truths are just that simple.

She could feel him everywhere, on her skin and deep inside, could feel his kisses, his heat, his intensity. He was lost in her, so utterly lost, but it didn't matter because losing himself in her was safe.

It was a dance as ancient as time, and they knew how to dance it.

Skin to skin.

Soul to soul.

Bones to bones.

 _The Christmas spirit grows with each new day  
And it's so close but seems so far away  
And yet it comes only once a year  
Before you know it, it's already here  
The streets are filled with laughter  
And so many hearts are gay._

 _The End. Merry Christmas!_


End file.
